few, sanctioned by old usage of Poetry and Romance, I retain, as Kent, Thanet, Cornwall. London is Troynovant, as the city of the Trinobantes.

"Some passages in the poem will be easily traced to their acknowledged sources, the poets of Greece and Italy; one, however, in the third book, relating to the northern mythology, has been remarkably anticipated in a modern poem. The honourable author may be assured that the coincidence is unintentional, as that part of this poem was the earliest written, and previous to the appearance of his produc

tion."

The story on which the poem is founded is the old one of Vortigern and Rowena, and the subsequent invasion and conquest of Britain by the Saxons under Hengist and Horsa. These are at first victorious, and lord it over the "prostrate isle" and its infatuated monarch, at their pleasure-but in Samor, the king or earl of Caer-Gloew, or Gloucester, arises the avenger of her wrongs, the restorer of her glory; his wisdom and courage, his incessant activity and perseverance, are successful in the redemption of his country. He slays Horsa, and, Hengist a prisoner, Samor, to whom in a solemn convocation of the British states, where the king is present, the office of judge is assigned by the general voice, decrees the death of the captive barbarian, with whose execution the poem terminates.

We now proceed to give somewhat in detail the principal events of the poem, and in so doing shall take frequent occasion to use the exquisite language in which the author has arrayed them.

The first book opens with the meeting near London or Troynovant, of Vortigern, and Hengist, who has just returned from his victory over the marauding Picts. Vortigern is voluble in praise of his valiant ally, and leads the way to a sumptnous banquet prepared in honour of the conqueror. Every thing here is gay and spirited-but the progress of the feast is about to be interrupted by the smothered indignation of the British chiefs against Hengist, when

"Sudden came floating through the hall an air So strangely sweet, the o'erwrought sense scarce felt

Its rich excess of pleasure; softer sounds
Melt never on the enchanted midnight cool,
By haunted spring, where elfin dances trace
Green circlets on the moonlight dews; nor lull
Becalmed mariner from rocks, where basks
At summer noon the Sea-maid; he his oar
Breathless suspends, and motionless his bark
Sleeps on the sleeping waters. Now the notes
So gently died away, the silence scem'd

Melodious; merry now and light and blithe They danced on air: anon came tripping forth In frolic grace a maiden troop, their locks Flower-wreath'd, their snowy robes from clasped

zone

Fell careless drooping, quick their glittering feet Glanc'd o'er the pavement. Then the pomp of sound

Swell'd up, and mounted; as the stately swan, Her milk-white neck embower'd in arching

spray,

Queens it along the waters, entered in
The lofty hall a shape so fair, it lull'd
The music into silence, yet itself
Pour'd out, prolonging the soft ecstacy,
The trembling and the touching of sweet sound.
Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth
And swimming majesty of step and tread,
The symmetry of form and feature, set
The soul afloat, even like delicious airs

Of flute or harp: as though she trod from earth,
And round her wore an emanating cloud
Of harmony, the Lady mov'd. Too proud
For less than absolute command-too soft
For aught but gentle amorous thought: her hair
Cluster'd, as from an orb of gold cast out
A dazzling and o'erpowering radiance, save
Here and there on her snowy neck repos'd
In a sooth'd brilliance some thin wandering tress.
The azure flashing of her eye was fring'd
With virgin meekness, and her tread, that seem'd
Earth to disdain, as softly fell on it
As the light dew-shower on a tuft of flowers.
The soul within seem'd feasting on high thoughts,
That to the outward form and feature gave
A loveliness of scorn-scorn that to feel
Was bliss, was sweet indulgence."

The lady advances to the king-pledges him in "half-failing accents"-and quits the hall. Vortigern is captivated with her transcendant beauty, and learning from Hengist that she is his daughter, instantly proposes his union with the lovely virgin, and tempts his consent with the offer of the kingdom of Kent as a marriage portion. Hengist, of course, assents, and the enamoured monarch, rising from his seat, and taking off his crown, places it on the temples of the Saxon, and in a flowing goblet gives the word,

"To Kent's high King

A health, a health to Vortigern's fair bride,
Each Saxon the exulting strain, and struck
The golden-hair'd Rowena.-Seized at once
The wine-drain'd goblet down, Health, King
of Kent!'"

The announcement of this sudden and inauspicious betrothment immediately calls up the royal chief of Gloucester, who addresses Vortigern in a speech, which, however worthy of the better times of English history, we much doubt whether Lord Castlereagh, or any of his colleagues, would consider as a specimen of loyalty.

"Sovereign of Britain's Sovereigns! of our

crowns

The highest in our realm of many thrones
Enthron'd the loftiest! mighty as thou art,
Thou dost outstep thy amplitude of sway;
Thine is our isle to govern, not to give;
A free and sacred property hast thou
In our allegiance; for a master's right
Over our lives, our princedoms, and our souls,
King Vortigern, as well mayst thou presume
To a dominion o'er our winds, to set
Thy stamp and impress on our light from heaven.
This Britain cannot rest beneath the shade
Of Saxon empire, this our Christian soil
The harvest of obedience will not bear
To Heathen sway; and hear me, Vortigern,
The golden image that thou settest up,
Like the pride-drunken Babylonian king,
Though dulcimer and psaltery soothe us down
To the soft humour of submission tame,
We will not worship.""

Samor, followed by "the Island's brave and proud," departs from the palace. An interview takes place subsequently between Vortigern and himself, in which he makes an endeavour to draw the king from his connexion with the Saxons-and nearly succeeds, when all his exhortations are rendered ineffectual by the approach of Hengist's daughter.

"Sliding came and smooth A car, wherein, like some fair idol led Through the mute tumult of adorning streets, Bright-hair'd Rowena pass'd the portal arch.

Have ye a sense, ye gales, a conscious joy In beauty, that with such an artful touch And light ye float about her garment folds, Displaying what is exquisite display'd, And thinly scattering the light veil where'er Its shadowing may enhance the grace, and swell With sweet officiousness the clustering hair Where fairest tufts its richness, and let fall Where drooping most becomes; that thus ye love To lose yourselves about her, and expire Upon her shape, or snow-white robes? She stood, Her ivory arm in a soft curve stretch'd out, As only in the obedience of her steeds Rejoicing; they their necks arch'd proud and high,

And by her delicate and flower-soft hands
Sway'd, as enamour'd of her mastery mov'd,
Lovingly on their bright-chat'd bits repos'd,
Or in gay sport upon each other fawn'd.

But as the Monarch she beheld, she caught
The slack rein up, and with unconscious check
Delay'd the willing coursers, and her head,
Upon her ivory shoulder half declin'd
In languor of enjoyment, rising wore
Rosy confusion, and disorder fair
Transiently on her pride of motion broke.
Or chance, or meaning wander'd to his face
Her eye, with half command, entreating half;
Haughty to all the world, but mild to him,
Th' all admir'd admiring, and th' all-awing
awed-

She look'd on him, and trembled as she look'd.
Alone she came, alone she went not on.'

Book 2d. The princes of Britain, disgusted with the weakness of Vortigern and the insolence of the Saxons, assem

ble together to consult on the deposition of the first, and the expulsion of the latter. The sons of Constantine, Vortigern's predecessor, are present. Emrys, the elder, urges his claim to the throne in mild yet forcible terms, but Uther, the younger brother bursts out in vehement and angry speech against Vortigern, whom he treats as an usurper. The chiefs, roused to sudden fury by his words, call out aloud for war, and the assembly is about to dissolve in confusion, when the tumult is suspended by Samor, who, rising, thus addresses them:

"Brave sight for earth and heaven! it doth not fail

A nation's cry for freedom and for faith,
Nor faint, nor deaden in the mist and gloom
of this low earth; it takes the morning's wings,
There glideth through the gladdening Angel
Passeth the crystal skies,and beats heaven's gate;

choirs,

That fan it onward with their favouring plumes,
To the eternal sapphire throne, and him
That sits thereon, Ineffable. Oh Kings,
Seeming of earthly passion, lust of sway,
Our council thus appealing may not wear
Or phrenetic vengeance: we must rise in wrath,
But wear it as a mourner's robe of grief,
Not as a garb of joy: must boldly strike,
But like the Roman, with reverted face,
In sorrow to be so enforced. Brave Chiefs,
It would misseem a son of this proud isle,
To trample on the fallen, though a King;
It would misseem a Christian to rejoice
Where virtue hath play'd false, and fame's pure
light

Hath sicken'd to dishonourable gloom.
Vortigern is our foe, no more our King,
Yet King he hath been, King he had been still
Had never his high vaulting pride disdain'd
The smooth dominion of old use, nor striven
To fix on our impatient necks the yoke
Of foreign usurpation; our free land
Will not endure the heathen Saxon's rule,
Nor him that rules by heathen Saxon power.
So march we forth in th' armour of our right,
From our once King not fallen off in hate
Or fickleness, but by severe constraint
Of duty to ourselves and to our God.
So march we forth, and in such state may make
Our mother land to vaunt of us, raise up,
Side by side, the fair airs to captivate
To an approval of our upright deed,
Our royal banner and the Cross of Christ;
Aud move within their cirque of splendour, calm,
And yet resistless as the bright-maned steeds
That bear the Morn to disenthrone old Night."

Samor proceeds to the nomination of Constans, the eldest born of Constantine, as king, and comments upon the peril likely to result to the state should his claims to the throne be overlooked in favour of Emrys or Uther.

"He ceased, nor time for voice or swift acclaim,

Scowling a sullen laugh of scorn, leaped forth The mountain king, the sovereign of the lakes

And dales this side the Caledonian bound;
He only, when the kings sate awe-struck, stood
Elate with mocking pity in his frown;
A mighty savage, he of God and man
Alike contemptuous; nought of Christian lore
Knew he, yet scoffed unknown, 'twas peaceful,
meek,

Thence worthless knowledge. Him delighted

more

Helvellyn's cloud-wrapt brow to climb, and share

The eagle's stormy solitude; 'mid wreck
Of whirlwinds and dire lightnings huge he stood,
Where his own gods he deem'd on volleying
clouds

Abroad were riding and black hurricane.
Them in their misty pride assail'd he oft
With impious threat, and laugh'd when th' echo-
ing glens

His wild defiance cast unanswered back.
Now with curl'd lip of scorn, and brow uplift,
Lordly command, not counsel, fierce he spake.
Shame, coward shame! as though the fowls
of heaven,

When in dusk majesty and pride of wing
Sails forth the monarch eagle, down should
stoop

In homage to the daw. Oh craven souls,
When Snowdon or high Skiddaw's brow is bare,
To plant the stately standard of revolt
Upon a molehill. Constans! that to him
Caswallon should bow down; aloft our crown
Upon the giddy banner staff, that rocks
On Troynovant's tall citadel, uphang,
And who the dizzy glory will rend down,
Or Constans or Caswallon? The bright throne
Environ with grim ranks of steel-girt men:
Huge Saxons black with grisly scars of war,
Who first will hew to that triumphal seat
His ruinous path? Hear, sceptred Britons,

hear,

A counsel worthy the deep thoughts of kings:
Of valorous achievement and bold deeds
Be guerdon to the mightiest of our isle,
The sov'reignty of Britain; spurn my voice,
And I renounce your counsels, cast you off,
And with my hardy vassals of the north
I join the Saxon.'"

Start from the mingled splendour. On their height

Unseen, the chieftains watch'd the winding pomp.

And all before the azure-vested bards

From glancing instruments shook bridal glee.. Then came the gorgeous chariots, rough with gold,

And steeds their proud heads nodding with rich weight

of frontlet wreathed with flowers and shadowy plumes;

Therein sate ladies robed in costly state,
Each like a queen; the noble charioteers,
Briton in garb, with purple mantle loose,
O'er steel, in network bright, or scale o'er scale,
Glittering, and aventayle barr'd close and firm,
As yet the gaudy traitors shamed to meet
The cold keen glance of countrymen betray'd.
Dark in their iron arms, some wildly girt
With Caledonian spoils, their yellow hair
Down from the casque in broad luxuriant flow
Spreading, and lofty bann r wide display'd,
Whereon a milk-white courser reinless shone,
Paced forth the Saxon warriors. High o'er all,
Tempestuous Horsa, chafing his hot steed,
And Hengist with his wreath of amber beads,"
His hoary strength, in spite of age or toil,
A tower of might; with that tall grove of

Hurried, yet tardy, as of one who rides O'er land still tottering with an earthquake shock.

And him beside on snowy palfrey, deck'd With silver bells its pendent mane profuse, Of silver and of stainless ermelin The bright caparisons, and all her robes White as of woven lily cups, the bride Majestic rode as on a moving throne. Her sunbright hair she waved and smiled As though, of less than kingly paramour Scorpful, she said, Lo, Britain through your

around,

land

I lead the enthralled sovereign of your isle."

The nuptial procession passes on in triumphant gaiety.-Suddenly its progress is arrested by a strange and apparently supernatural being, who mingles with the joyous band, and terrifies even Hengist with his wild gestures, and still wilder speech.

* "He is so decorated by the Welsh Poets. See Transl. of the Brut of Tysilio, by Peter Roberts.

She too is there before whose spacious sight
The years that have not been start up and live,
Who reads within the soul of man unborn
The unimagined purpose, of the sage
Skulda the sagest. Ask and thou shalt know."

To the inquiries of Hengist, Skulda answers that to his descendants, but not to him, Woden grants sway and dominion over Britain, and that the foe, meaning Samor, comes" from the vale."

"Fatal to Hengist, and to Hengist's sway,"

Caswallon demands how he shall propi tiate the lord of Valhalla-and the Valkyr responds,

"Not the blood

Of steed or stag; a flower of earth must fade.
Blest o'er all virgins of the earth, the chaste,
The beautiful, by heaven ordain'd to lead
The souls of valiant men to the pale hall
Of the Immortal; air her path, and heaven
Her dwelling, with the fair and brave of earth
Her sole communion!'"

Caswallon promises to devote his daughter to the service of Woden, and the chiefs, retracing their journey through the frozen solitude, meet on the borders of the Baltic the succours summoned by Hengist.

"Then forth arose each chieftain to salute The polestar of their baleful galaxy, Prime architect of ruin: him who sway'd Their hot marauding, desultory strife To cool and steady warfare, of their limbs The domineering soul. As each past on Shook up the Scald his harsh-strung shell, and

cast

The war tones of each nation to the winds;
And Hengist with imperious flattery met
Each tall and titled leader: Art thou here,
Bold Frisian Hermengard! a broader isle
And fairer than thy azure Rhine laves round,
Spreads for thee her green vallies. How
brook'st thou,

Strong Scandinavian, Lodbrog, thou the chief
Of the renown'd Vikinger, while the waves
So nobly riot with the wintry storms,
The tame and steadfast land? Now freely leap,
Arngrim, along thy Suevian forest brown
The bear and foam tusk'd wild boar; let them
leap,

A braver game is up on Britain's shore.
O Cerdic, gray in glory, young in power,
The Drave ran purple with thy boyish deeds,
A darker, redder dye, o'er silver Thames
Shall spread before thy ancient battle axe.
Ho, Offa, the rich-flowing mead hath worn
Your Jutland cups, beneath the British helins
Capacious goblets smooth and fair await
Offa's carousals. Heir of Cimbric fame,
Frotho, how these, of late the Roman's slaves,
Will the race daunt, who set our Thor afront
The Roman's Capitolian Jove. And thou,
My gold-hair'd brother, are the British maids,
Or British warriors, Abisa, the first
In the fierce yearning's of thy boyish soul?

And lo the mighty Anglian; oh, unfold
Ocean more wide, more wealthy realms, too
brief,
Too narrow for Argantyr's fame, the round
Of this the choice, the sovereign of thine isles.””

The remainder of the book details the return of Hengist to Britain with his reinforcements.

Book the fourth introduces us to the lovely and ill-fated daughter of Caswallon. There is, we think, considerable sweetness and grace in the following lines:

Like maiden on a lonely pilgrimage,
"Sunk was the sun, and up the eastern heaven,
Moved the meek Star of Eve; the wandering air
Breathed odours; wood, and waveless lake, like

man,

Slept, weary of the garish babbling day.

Dove of the wilderness, thy snowy wing
In slumber droops not; Lilian, thou alone,
'Mid the deep quiet, wakest. Dost thou rove,
Idolatress of yon majestic moon,

That like a crystal-throned queen in heaven,
Seems with her present deity to hush
To beauteous adoration all the earth?
Might seem the solemn silent mountain tops
Down the hill sides glittering cherish the pure
Stand up and worship, the translucent streams

light

Beneath the shaddowy foliage o'er them flung
At intervals; the lake, so silver white,
Glistens, all indistinct the snowy swans
Bask in the radiance cool: doth Lilian muse
To that apparent queen her vesper hymn ?”

The stern and savage soul of Caswallon turned away from the soft endearments of Lilian, and while his pride urges him to bestow such cares upon his son MalWyn as are necessary to train him up to the toils and hardships of war, she,

"from human tenderness Estranged, and gentler feelings that light up The cheek of youth with rosy joyous smile, Like a forgotten lute, play'd on alone By chance-caressing airs, amid the wild Beauteously pale, and sadly playful grew, A lonely child, by not one human heart Belov'd, and loving none; nor strange, if learnt Her native fond affections to embrace Things senseless and inanimate: she loved All flow'rets that with rich embroidery fair Enamel the green earth, the odorous thyme, Wild rose, and roving eglantine, nor spared To mourn their fading forms with childish tears. Gray birch and aspen light she loved, that droop Fringing the crystal stream; the sportive breeze That wanton'd with her brown and glossy locks, The sunbeam chequering the fresh bank. Ere dawn

Wandering, and wandering still at dewy eve, By Glenderamakin's flower-empurpled marge, Derwent's blue lake, or Greta's wildering glen. Rare sound to her was human voice, scarce

heard,

Save of her aged nurse, or shepherd maid Soothing the child with simple tale or song. Hence, all she knew of earthly hopes and fears Life's sins and sorrows; better known the voics